


Lost

by jilloreilly



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt, Radar O’Reilly - Freeform, Sniper - Freeform, Whump, mash - Freeform, mash 4077, potter’s horse, radar loves animals, radar needs a hug, radar whump, sad radar, sophie - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-08-13 21:04:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20180701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jilloreilly/pseuds/jilloreilly
Summary: Radar doesn’t fit in at the 4077. The one thing that brings him that sense of belonging is his animals; specifically Potter’s horse, Sophie. When his one light in the darkness of the war is threatened, Radar will do anything to protect it.When he gets in over his head, Radar is faced with his biggest fear: being left alone, wondering who would be willing to find such an outcast.





	1. Identity

**Author's Note:**

> This might suck whoopsie
> 
> I’ll update a lot :)

“C’mon, Sophie! That’s a good girl.” Radar grinned as Sophie broke into a steady canter. Holding the leadrope at arm’s length, he turned slowly, coaxing the mare in a circle around him. He loved groundworking Potter’s beautiful horse. It was good for Sophie—Potter was often too busy to groom and groundwork the horse, and Radar was more than happy to help out. It made him feel like he was back home; on his farm in Ottumwa, he’d done this nearly every day. If not with a horse, some other animal that needed his help. It gave him a sense of purpose. Some reason for being stuck out here.  
“Okay, Soph…” Radar clucked his tongue towards her, “whoa-a-a…” Sophie slowed to a trot, obeying Radar’s commands as if by magic. Radar had that way with animals; so much easier to interact with and understand than people, he’d always thought.  
Radar had always been aware that he didn’t fit in here. He’d never had an easy time with that—even in grade school he’d always been, well, weird. He’d liked learning, even if he wasn’t so good at it all the time, and his seemingly-psychic tendencies set him apart. No one wanted to be stuck with the strange kid with the big glasses, and that mindset had followed him into Korea. His biggest fear, though he’d never tell them, was that his friends, his wonderful friends, Hawkeye Pierce, BJ Hunnicutt, Igor, Klinger...were secretly just putting up with him to be nice. After all, could they really care about a stupid little kid like him?  
But with his animals, no. His animals...he had a way with them. He understood them. His kindness, that sweet gentleness he didn’t seem to recognize in himself, drew them to him. He made sense around animals.  
“Good girl, Soph. Good girl.” Radar smiled, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth again, this time coaxing her back to a canter.  
“Yes!” Click, click, click, click, cli—  
BANG!  
Radar gasped as a gunshot, firing far too close for comfort rang out through the still air.  
Somewhere in the distance, someone screamed “sniper!”  
Panic rose from Radar’s belly to his throat, burning, leaving him gasping for air.  
It happened in a split second.  
Radar had time to briefly resolve he would not leave Potter’s horse alone, loose, and scared. If was his responsibility, and he wasn’t deserting her.  
In that split second, Sophie, excited from her canter, let out a loud squeal, rearing up on her hind legs. Another shot fired. Sophie began to buck.  
“W-Whoa! Whoa, girl!” Radar yelled, fighting to keep calm himself.  
One more shot.  
Sophie took off in a gallop.  
Radar let out a sharp scream, but his hand was tangled hopelessly in the lead rope.  
He felt himself flung to his belly on the dusty ground, scrambling to pick himself up. No time. Sophie tore past the camp border, squealing and kicking. Radar let out a wail as his right arm was yanked from its socket, fear blinding his vision. All he felt was a hot, tugging, firey pain erupting through his body as Sophie crashed through the edge of the woods.  
Sticks and branches ripped into Radar’s skin. His eyes were filled with hot tears as Sophie stopped so abruptly, he was thrown head-over-heels through the brush, slicing his back clean through his shirt and landing with a sickening crunch on the ground.  
Pain exploded through his nose. His face lay in a pool of his own blood, and he could already feel his nose swelling up.  
His arm dangled uselessly and limply at his side. Scratches ranging from skin-deep scrapes to gashes covered every inch of his body. His head was throbbing. He didn’t think he’d ever felt so dizzy in his life.  
Looking around, Radar realized he wasn’t far off from camp. The only place with enough room to train Sophie was on the outskirts of camp—if they were only through the woods, that wasn’t so bad…  
Radar was just thanking his lucky stars they hadn’t been near the minefield.  
Oh Christ, he was so stupid! Radar wanted to kick himself, to hurt himself more than he already was. He should have left Sophie. He should have explained to Potter that his horse had taken off, and probably wouldn’t come back. And the stupidity of getting his hand stuck in the lead rope—he barely remembered it. The horse had panicked, he’d tried to hold on…  
As if his clearly-broken shoulder weren’t enough, his hand was absolutely mangled. Getting ripped through the lead rope as Sophie had taken off had taken most of the skin from it. Burn marks were etched into his fingers, purple and swollen.  
Radar looked around helplessly. Sophie stood a few feet away, blood staining her sweat-soaked coat. She was snorting heavily, looking almost-worriedly down at the smaller boy who’d always been so kind to her.  
“Sophie…” Radar moaned softly. “Sophie, what did you do?”  
It wasn’t her fault. It was natural for horses to be jumpy. He should have known better. He should have done it all differently.  
How on earth was he going to get back? He didn’t think he could even walk in a straight line. Radar touched his good hand to his nose—it was so swollen he must have looked like a clown. Blood coated his face, cuts forming where his shattered glasses had broken on his face.  
Fear was rising higher and higher as the shock wore off.  
No one was going to find him.  
Radar didn’t want anyone to find him. He was a stupid little kid who should NOT be bothering the likes of Captains Pierce and Hunnicutt. They had important jobs to do, and those jobs did not include looking after a stupid corporal.  
Oh Lord, he wanted to go home.  
All he could think about was the way his ma would tenderly clean up his wounds, kissing his forehead before tucking him into bed to sleep it off.  
Radar wasn’t home anymore.  
No more tucking in, no more gentle sympathy when he was hurt, no more kisses on the forehead or warm beds.  
Finally giving way to fear, Radar began to sob. Oh, what he wouldn’t do right now for his teddy bear!  
Sophie’s warm nose nudged his good shoulder gently, nickering a bit in his ear. That was something Radar loved about horses—they always knew when you were down. They loved their caretakers, and could be fiercely loyal.  
Radar sputtered illegibly through his tears, trying to let the horse know it was okay, but finding himself too far gone to hysterics.  
The gash ripping up his back pulsed painfully, painting his torn jacket in blood. His face was a disaster, and boy, if he wasn’t getting tired…  
No! Hawkeye had told him once never to fall asleep if he had a head injury. Never.  
But it hurt so much.  
If he went to sleep, he wouldn’t feel it anymore.  
The appeal got the better of him, and, in a puddle of his own blood and tears, Radar let his eyelids close, falling fast asleep right there in the dirt.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back at the 4077, the absence of our favorite corporal is noticed by a few. Meanwhile, Radar fights to keep himself sane. 
> 
> (These chapters were reeeeeeeaaal short so I combined them into one)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so bad at chapter summaries oh my gOD

No matter how much time he spent joking around, the sniper fire had Hawkeye on edge. As soon as that particular round of shooting had ended, Hawk had uncovered his head, stood tall, and sped out the door of the OR. He was one of the only doctors in there, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to concentrate without knowing that his friends were safe.  
First and foremost, he burst into his tent to make sure BJ was fine. Second, to make sure he had been protecting the still.  
Then, to Potter’s tent, passing an unharmed Margaret and Frank on the way.  
Nobody greeted him. Potter sat alone in his office, his trusted, ever-present clerk nowhere to be found.  
“Doing okay, sir?” Hawkeye asked, swinging gracefully through the door.  
“Hm?” Potter’s head snapped up. “Sure I am. I’m not surviving my second war only to be done in by a sniper. If that ever happens, keep me alive long enough to slap me silly.”  
Hawkeye smirked. “Aye-aye, cap’n.”  
“That’s Colonel to you, Pierce.”  
“Somehow ‘aye-aye, Colonel’ just didn’t have the same ring to it.”  
“You seen Radar?” Potter asked suddenly, a cloud falling over his eyes.  
“Radar? Sure. About three feet tall, curly head, glasses that could outweigh him, always shuffling about on his little feet Radar?”  
“That’s the one.”  
“Can’t say we’ve crossed paths in a bit, no.”  
“I’ve called for him and called for him. I’m starting to get worried. With the hearing that kid has, there isn’t a place in camp he could go where he couldn’t hear me.”  
“Want me to go look for him?” Hawkeye asked, leaning on Potter’s desk.  
“Could you? Put my mind at ease about this whole sniper thing. Last I saw him he was out to exercise Sophie. Haven’t seen either of them since.”  
“Aye-aye ca-“  
“Pierce, get out.”  
_________________

Radar’s passed-out state did nothing to ease his raging mind.  
Within his nightmare, his body felt like it was on fire. Flames coursing through his veins, smoke filling his clouded head.  
Familiar voices, Hawkeye, BJ...they echoed tirelessly in his beaten mind, each word hurting as much as any injury he’d suffered. You did this. It’s your fault.  
You’re a little kid sitting in Colonel Potter’s pocket and everyone knows it.  
You deserved this. You had it coming, pretending like you belonged here with us.  
Go on, cry.  
Hold your teddy bear and cry.  
It won’t change a thing.  
Radar wanted to wake up now. Oh God, he wanted to escape this. Open your eyes! Open your eyes! His body wouldn’t respond to his brain’s commands. No, he was trapped inside his dreams.  
Nobody’s going to find you.  
He tried to scream for the voices to go away. Please, please, please, please...he begged, he cried, he shouted, he fought them, but they wouldn’t quiet. Why should they? Why would they want to? It was all true, wasn’t it?   
Every pulse of pain that shot through one of his wounds echoed through his dreams. He felt everything. No release.  
Why couldn’t he wake up? Why wouldn’t he wake up? 

Nobody came to find him, nobody’s arms wrapped lovingly around him, no kiss on the forehead. Just cold, empty nothingness.


	3. ...And Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our pint-sized hero is discovered! However, nothing his rescuer can do seems to help the emotional blows Radar has suffered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I did this right, there should be lots of feels. Tons of friendship fluff and comfort. 
> 
> I wrote this sorta fast so it may not be the best thing ever. I’m slipping, y’all!

As Hawkeye emerged from his third round of checking the mess tent for the ever-hungry, yet perpetually-small corporal, he had truly realized that he couldn’t find the kid. In fact, nobody had seen him for hours.  
Colonel Potter was getting nervous now. Not only was Radar missing, but Sophie was too. Something had happened during their time together.  
But Korea was an awful big place to try and find an awful small kid.  
Hawkeye traced Radar’s schedule to the site of the horse training. There was only one area big enough, and that was the fence on the outskirts of camp. If he’d been here, maybe…  
A loud whinny caught Hawkeye’s attention. From the woods, Sophie, covered in sweat and patches of blood, burst through the trees, galloping into the field before her.  
“WHOA!” Hawkeye felt his heart leap into his throat. If Sophie looked like that, where was Radar?! “Sophie! Sophie, come, girl!”  
Sophie trotted aimlessly, clearly at a loss for what to do with her newfound space. Finally, her wild eyes fell on Hawkeye, waving and calling to her.  
“Sophie! Sophie, come back! Sophie!” Hawkeye leapt over the fence and began inching slowly towards the mare. “C’mon, girl.”  
Sophie nickered softly at the familiar face.  
“That’s a girl. Where’d you come from? Where’s your buddy?” Hawkeye stroked her face cautiously. “Where’s Ra-...you don’t speak person and I don’t speak horse. I think we’re wasting our time here, old girl.” Hawkeye patted Sophie once, turning towards the thick woods she’d come out of. The blood on her coat terrified him. If she looked like that…  
Hawkeye bit his lip, resolving to let Potter find the horse. He was getting his friend. Marching across the dry, yellowing field, Hawkeye burst determinedly through the brush, hollering his friend’s name. If he got captured by North Koreans by causing such a ruckus, at least he’d have been looking for someone worth looking for.  
Stumbling through the trees, Hawkeye followed the trampled trail Sophie had left to a small clearing in the brush.  
When he looked down, Hawkeye thought for a terrible minute he might pass out right there.  
There, lying at his feet, was an unconscious Radar O’Reilly, breath coming in shuddering gasps. His arm was held close against his body, showing his mangled hand in full view. Radar lay on his belly, showing the deep gash in his back stretching from below his shoulder blades to the waistline of his pants. With his head turned a little to the side, Hawkeye could see the poor kid’s bashed-up nose was taking up half his face.  
Hawkeye snapped himself out of his haze and skidded to his knees. “Radar? Radar!” The young corporal was motionless. “Hey, hey, it’s me. I’m here. I’m right here, Radar.”  
No response. Hawkeye shook his shoulder lightly, heart beginning to pound.  
Nothing.  
Hawkeye grabbed Radar’s wrist. Yep, he was alive for sure.  
“Radar, c’mon. Please. Radar, Radar! Wake up!”  
Hawkeye shook him harder, this time pressing above his heart.  
A loud gasp startled Hawkeye into falling on the ground next to the kid. Radar opened his eyes and promptly began thrashing wildly, waving his small, bloodied fists at Hawkeye. A scream erupted from his throat, and, still in a nightmare-induced haze, Radar curled up on his side, covering his head with his good hand as if expecting Hawkeye to attack him.  
“WHOA! Radar! Radar, hey! Calm down! Hey!”  
Radar, fist flying again, whimpered loudly. “N-NO! NONONO! PLEASE!”  
“Rada—“ “IT’S NOT FAIR! I DIDN’T...I didn’t try to be such a screw-up! Just let me go HOME!” Radar hollered until his voice gave way, giving one final, weak, pained attempt to push Hawkeye away. “HEY!” Hawkeye pinned Radar’s good arm against the ground. “Radar, wake up! It’s me! It’s Hawkeye!”  
Radar froze, confusion, then clarity sweeping over his wild eyes. “Wha- I mean, where was...Hawkeye.”  
“Yeah. It’s me. It’s me.”  
Sudden, shimmering tears of overwhelm and relief lit up Radar’s eyes. “You’re here. You...found me? How? I didn’t think...I didn’t think anyone would.” He slurred dazedly.  
“You’re not that far from camp.” Hawkeye said, “of course someone would have.”  
“No...” he mumbled, “that’s not what I mean. I figured no one’d care enough.”  
“Wha-? Where did you get that?! That’s just not true, you hear me? That’s why I’m here. To find you.”  
“Find me.” Radar slurred illegibly, letting his head loll back.  
“Whoa-a-a…” Hawkeye grabbed Radar by the shoulders. “You’re not falling asleep on me. I’d get bored on my own. Now, what exactly happened to you?”  
“I don’t...I don’t know. I don’t know what happened! It was all so fast...the sniper, Sophie took off, I got dragged...I fell asleep and...and then I dunno!”  
“Okay, okay, shhh. It’s fine.” Hawkeye patted Radar’s back reassuringly. “That arm, Radar! From your fingertips to your shoulder...that is not a pretty sight. We’ll want to set that as soon as possible.”  
“Okay.”  
“Your poor face. There seems to be a nose in the way of it.” Hawkeye raised his eyebrows. “I’m a bit concerned about the prospect of a concussion, actually.”  
Radar groaned, rolling over and curling up on his side. Hawkeye bit his lip, deciding what the best course of action would be to getting the poor boy back in one piece. “Cap’n Pierce?” Radar mumbled sleepily after a beat.  
“What, Radar?”  
“I’m real, real scared,”  
“Of what? Nothing’s gonna happen to you. I’d say the worst is about over, whatever happened to you.”  
“Everything hurts.” He whispered. “Colonel Potter’s gonna be mad at me for getting his horse all bloody.”  
Pity overtook the ‘doctor’ side of Hawk, replacing it with the ‘friend.’ “Are you kidding? Colonel Potter is just going to be glad you’re okay. He was the one that alerted me of your absence. He couldn’t be mad at you, kid. Don’t be scared. I’ve got you. You’re okay.” Radar was quiet as Hawkeye bent down beside him. He was getting worried about all that blood still streaming from his friend’s wounds. “Okay...clearly, you’re in no condition to walk.” Hawkeye looked around while he bit his lip, knowing what he had to do and preparing himself for Radar’s protesting. Radar hated attention like this.  
Shushing Radar as he whimpered a little at being moved, Hawkeye bent down and looped his arms around Radar, picking him up as gently as he could, supporting his head and resting his arm on his body.  
Hawkeye was not prepared for the reaction he got.  
Instead of fighting him, insisting he was fine and blushing at the attention, instead of resisting the care, Radar’s face promptly crumpled, then disappeared in Hawkeye’s shirtfront. A soft-but-heart-wrenching wail burst from the curled up corporal. Hawkeye was taken aback. This wasn’t Radar. Not at all.  
Poor Radar began to cry into Hawkeye’s chest like he’d been through hell and back. Not knowing what to do, Hawkeye cradled him a little tighter, whispering the occasional “it’s okay” above him. Hawkeye had expected the kid to be lighter than most, being so small, but he had to admit he was a little surprised by just how light he was. Radar still maintained that bit of childhood plumpness about his small body that made him look even younger and sweeter.  
War wasn’t good for Radar. He was empty and scared and lonely, smaller than he should be, on his own a little too much.  
Hawkeye wanted to start back to the unit. Radar needed medical attention, and clearly, to be back in a warm bed. But the way the poor kid was bawling, it seemed downright cold to ignore him.  
“Radar, what happened?” Hawkeye brushed back a stray lock of curls sticking out of Radar’s cap.  
Radar tried to respond, but succeeded only in hiccuping so hard, his legs kicked out in Hawkeye’s arms.  
Stifling a small laugh, Hawkeye rocked back and forth on his heels slightly. “Listen, Radar, you wanna go back to the camp now? We can stay just like this if you want to, okay? We can. Whatever you want. But we can also go back and get you patched up.”  
Radar looked up with huge, watery eyes. “L-L-Let’s g-go back.”  
“Okay.” Hawkeye nodded. This was going to be the longest walk ever.  
Radar sniffled loudly and wiped his eyes. His face was a disaster of tears. “I’m s-s-s-sorry.”  
“C’mon now, it’s okay. Hey, that broken nose makes you look awful tough, y’know.” Hawkeye said as they walked.  
Radar cracked a smile. His arms were wound tightly around his friend’s neck, as if he’d found his lifeline and was afraid that if he didn’t hold on, it may disappear.  
His eyes were fluttering open and closed constantly. Hawkeye moved a little faster—if Radar fell asleep…well, Hawk wanted to make sure he’d wake back up again.  
“I feel sick.”  
The small, shuddering voice was barely audible.  
“What?” Hawkeye looked down. Radar was getting paler. His teeth were chattering. “Hey, you cold?” Hawkeye noticed with a start that Radar’s small figure had begun to shiver slightly in his arms.  
“A l-little, I guess,” He was downright trembling. His teeth were chattering so hard he was tripping over his tongue.  
“I’m feeling quite secure in my concussion diagnosis. Guess medical school gave me something. Crap. Stay awake for me, okay?” Hawkeye stopped in his tracks, sitting down so Radar was supported in his lap. With his now-free hands, he shrugged his jacket off. It would be enormous on the kid, clearly, so instead of helping Radar put it on, he wrapped it around the young corporal like a blanket around a child. Sure enough, it wound all the way around his small frame, pooling around his round face. Hawkeye tucked it under Radar’s chin as Radar snuggled into it sleepily. His arms were stuck now, wrapped up in the jacket, so Hawkeye had to be careful picking him back up, holding him closer to keep him steady without his arms around his neck.  
“Thank you.” Radar muttered drowsily.  
Poor kid. Hawkeye had never seen him as a wimp or some helpless little boy—no, of course Hawkeye knew Radar was capable in every sense of the word. He was better at his job than anyone out there and he didn’t need help from a single soul to do it. But Hawkeye was very conscious of his youth—Radar had been drafted barely out of high school. He’d barely gotten his footing in the world. That would make things tough on him sometimes. Hawkeye was determined to keep him out of as much of the inevitable pain as he could. 

And that meant that if Radar needed some fawning over, he was going to get it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Radar's not doing well. 
> 
> Small disclaimer. This ain't good. Next chapter will be decent, I swear, but this ain't it. Sorry 'bout that. However, it does have Margaret being nice and calling Radar pet names.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is short. I don't know how to write summaries.

“HEY!” Hawkeye burst through the woods, running crazily through the field. He had Radar pressed so tightly against his chest, Radar wondered briefly if he might suffocate here. “I FOUND HIM! I’VE GOT HIM!”   
Out burst Potter from his office, Margaret closely in tow.  
“O’Reilly?!” Potter shouted, stopping in front Hawkeye and struggling to catch his breath. “Christ, is he okay? Radar, can you hear me?” Potter didn’t like showing fear in front of his men. He found himself fighting hard to keep down the rising panic looking at the injured corporal.   
Radar’s face was a mess of tear-stains. His nose was swollen and bloodied, arm hanging crazily from his shoulder to his burned, scraped hands. Blood caked his uniform, especially around the back of his jacket and pants. He looked, quite frankly, terrible.   
“He’s okay. He’s okay.” Hawkeye reassured the two following Radar’s silence. “He’s got some injuries, but nothing that won’t heal just fine.”   
“I'm getting a stretcher.” Margaret asked, eyeing Radar’s bruised body.   
“I carried him all this way. I think I can make it through the Swamp.” Hawkeye retorted. “C'mon. I wanna get him patched up.”   
Margaret and Potter ran to keep up with Hawkeye’s strides. Radar was drifting off again, so Hawkeye paused to shake him awake.   
“Hey, no falling asleep! What’d I tell you?” He admonished.   
Sweat soaked Radar’s pale, clammy face. “I don’t feel good.” His small voice was muttered softly into Hawkeye’s shirtfront as his head lolled against his chest.   
“What do you mean ‘you don’t feel good?’ Of course you don’t feel good!” Hawkeye looked down at Radar’s glassy, unfocused eyes. Every second seemed to build the tension in Hawkeye’s chest.   
With a sudden surge of strength, Radar kicked his foot back at Hawkeye’s arm, causing him to drop him.   
Radar let out a wail of pain as he hit the ground before promptly emptying the contents of his stomach before him.   
“Radar!” Hawkeye yelped, rubbing the spot where he’d been kicked and dropping to the ground. Radar coughed and sputtered helplessly, shivering like a leaf between chokes. “He has a bad concussion. Get me a stretcher. I don’t wanna jostle him around anymore." He said softly. Potter and Margaret stood frozen above him, mouths open. "Get me a stretcher! MOVE! NOW!” His voice finally broke with rising panic as Margaret broke into a run towards the OR tent.   
Potter put a hand on Hawkeye’s shoulder. “You’re doing good. Breathe, Hawkeye.”   
Radar lay panting on the dusty, soiled ground surrounded by his own sickness. Weak and pale, Hawkeye could tell he was giving in to the idea of sleep.   
After what seemed like an eternity, Margaret burst towards them, stretcher tucked awkwardly under her arm. Silently, the three gently moved Radar’s limp body onto it, lifting it carefully and nearly taking off in a run towards the OR.   
“Hang on, Radar.” Hawkeye muttered under his breath. Radar was drifting in and out, talking quickly and illegibly. He whimpered loudly, crying out when the stretcher was jostled and grabbing awkwardly with his good hand at nothing, attempting to reach one of his friends.   
“Shhh, Radar.” Potter breathed, “quiet down, Corporal.”   
Finally, Hawkeye allowed himself to let out the breath he’d been holding since he’d found the kid as the trio gingerly rolled Radar’s limp body to a bed.   
It was finally time for Radar to get a doctor, and Hawkeye knew what he was doing now in that area. He was in control.   
"Wash the blood off him. Clean up...clean up his face. I can't focus with him like that."   
"Sure, of course." Margaret bit her lip, knowing better than to go against him at this moment. Damp cloth in hand, she dabbed gently at Radar's cheeks and nose. Half-conscious, Radar groaned softly, hand grasping for Margaret's, trying to push her hand away from his broken nose.  
"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I know." Margaret mumbled.   
"Ow..."   
"It'll be over soon, honey." Even hardened Margaret had a sweet-spot for the kid. 

A mask went over Radar’s face, and after a few breaths, he was fast asleep, soft sobs coming from the back of his throat as the doctors began what they did best.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Radar's not doing well. 
> 
> Small disclaimer. This ain't good. Next chapter will be decent, I swear, but this ain't it. Sorry 'bout that. However, it does have Margaret being nice and calling Radar pet names.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is short. I don't know how to write summaries.

“HEY!” Hawkeye burst through the woods, running crazily through the field. He had Radar pressed so tightly against his chest, Radar wondered briefly if he might suffocate here. “I FOUND HIM! I’VE GOT HIM!”   
Out burst Potter from his office, Margaret closely in tow.  
“O’Reilly?!” Potter shouted, stopping in front Hawkeye and struggling to catch his breath. “Christ, is he okay? Radar, can you hear me?” Potter didn’t like showing fear in front of his men. He found himself fighting hard to keep down the rising panic looking at the injured corporal.   
Radar’s face was a mess of tear-stains. His nose was swollen and bloodied, arm hanging crazily from his shoulder to his burned, scraped hands. Blood caked his uniform, especially around the back of his jacket and pants. He looked, quite frankly, terrible.   
“He’s okay. He’s okay.” Hawkeye reassured the two following Radar’s silence. “He’s got some injuries, but nothing that won’t heal just fine.”   
“I'm getting a stretcher.” Margaret asked, eyeing Radar’s bruised body.   
“I carried him all this way. I think I can make it through the Swamp.” Hawkeye retorted. “C'mon. I wanna get him patched up.”   
Margaret and Potter ran to keep up with Hawkeye’s strides. Radar was drifting off again, so Hawkeye paused to shake him awake.   
“Hey, no falling asleep! What’d I tell you?” He admonished.   
Sweat soaked Radar’s pale, clammy face. “I don’t feel good.” His small voice was muttered softly into Hawkeye’s shirtfront as his head lolled against his chest.   
“What do you mean ‘you don’t feel good?’ Of course you don’t feel good!” Hawkeye looked down at Radar’s glassy, unfocused eyes. Every second seemed to build the tension in Hawkeye’s chest.   
With a sudden surge of strength, Radar kicked his foot back at Hawkeye’s arm, causing him to drop him.   
Radar let out a wail of pain as he hit the ground before promptly emptying the contents of his stomach before him.   
“Radar!” Hawkeye yelped, rubbing the spot where he’d been kicked and dropping to the ground. Radar coughed and sputtered helplessly, shivering like a leaf between chokes. “He has a bad concussion. Get me a stretcher. I don’t wanna jostle him around anymore." He said softly. Potter and Margaret stood frozen above him, mouths open. "Get me a stretcher! MOVE! NOW!” His voice finally broke with rising panic as Margaret broke into a run towards the OR tent.   
Potter put a hand on Hawkeye’s shoulder. “You’re doing good. Breathe, Hawkeye.”   
Radar lay panting on the dusty, soiled ground surrounded by his own sickness. Weak and pale, Hawkeye could tell he was giving in to the idea of sleep.   
After what seemed like an eternity, Margaret burst towards them, stretcher tucked awkwardly under her arm. Silently, the three gently moved Radar’s limp body onto it, lifting it carefully and nearly taking off in a run towards the OR.   
“Hang on, Radar.” Hawkeye muttered under his breath. Radar was drifting in and out, talking quickly and illegibly. He whimpered loudly, crying out when the stretcher was jostled and grabbing awkwardly with his good hand at nothing, attempting to reach one of his friends.   
“Shhh, Radar.” Potter breathed, “quiet down, Corporal.”   
Finally, Hawkeye allowed himself to let out the breath he’d been holding since he’d found the kid as the trio gingerly rolled Radar’s limp body to a bed.   
It was finally time for Radar to get a doctor, and Hawkeye knew what he was doing now in that area. He was in control.   
"Wash the blood off him. Clean up...clean up his face. I can't focus with him like that."   
"Sure, of course." Margaret bit her lip, knowing better than to go against him at this moment. Damp cloth in hand, she dabbed gently at Radar's cheeks and nose. Half-conscious, Radar groaned softly, hand grasping for Margaret's, trying to push her hand away from his broken nose.  
"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I know." Margaret mumbled.   
"Ow..."   
"It'll be over soon, honey." Even hardened Margaret had a sweet-spot for the kid. 

A mask went over Radar’s face, and after a few breaths, he was fast asleep, soft sobs coming from the back of his throat as the doctors began what they did best.


	6. War is No Place for the Good and the Young

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second to last chapter! 
> 
> Potter and Hawkeye do some fawning, and Radar freaks out after dreaming he’s home. Lots of feels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You better go read ‘Gee Ma, I Wanna Go Home!’ by mysticalmarigold! I owe the description of ‘angelic’ and ‘cherubic’ to that brilliant writer, so if you don’t read it, I might cry.

It was Potter who decided that, since no one would leave his side anyway, they might as well let Radar rest in his own bed, instead of the OR.   
It was Potter who insisted on carrying the boy there, finally managing to pry him away from Pierce.   
It was Potter who did so for no purpose other than to appreciate the heartbeat and rising breaths emitting from the corporal. He was alive. Jesus, he’d been thrown by a horse and shot at by a sniper, but he was alive.   
Potter had the feeling a certain teddy bear would be a relieving sight to the kid. Careful not to jostle him or move the bandages, Potter looked down a little as Radar mumbled softly in his deep sleep, snuggling a little closer to his carrier’s chest.   
Pushing the door to Radar’s room open gently, Potter carefully, carefully lay him down on his bed, smoothing the curls back from his forehead.   
Even with his broken nose, which was still swollen disproportionately to the rest of his features, Radar maintained a sweetness about his face that could be described only as angelic—while he slept, he instinctively settled in a little closer to his bear, shifting it so it ended up pressed against his cherubically round cheeks.   
The sedative must be wearing off, Potter thought. Radar was starting to stir. Potter smiled, about to leave when a small mumble from Radar stopped him.  
It sounded far too much like “I’m sorry” for Potter’s liking.   
Potter was by his bed in an instant, listening, waiting. Nothing more came from the kid, who had fallen back into a fitful but silent sleep.   
‘I’m sorry?’ What did the kid have to be sorry about?   
Potter sat back on the ground, resolving to stay just a bit longer. He wasn’t quite ready to leave Radar’s side yet—if he couldn’t be with his kid back home, well, he just have to make sure the son he had here was okay.   
Perhaps a part of him really didn’t want to forget how to be a father.   
Almost instinctively, Potter reached up and rubbed Radar’s shoulder.   
From all those years he’d seen in all the wars he’d withstood, Potter had seen kids hurt, killed, pulled from home, crying, shot at...and looking at this particular kid, hurt and stamped with tear-stains, reminded him that it never got any easier.   
“You’re a good kid, Corporal. Sleep well.” Potter stood up, letting himself listen to Radar’s steady breaths to remind himself that he’d made it through everything. This wasn’t one of the kids he’d had to lose. He reached out and tousled Radar’s curls briefly, then left the tent. He needed to go see his mare. 

_______________

“Iwantmyma…”   
Radar’s slurred, sleepy voice alerted Hawkeye, who had been sitting vigilantly at his friend’s bedside since Potter had left. His arm lay stiffly next to him, immobilized in a plaster cast, complete with bandages wrapped around his blistered fingers. His nose had been iced, and was nearly down to its original size. The blood had been washed from his body, and he’d been changed into fresh clothes. The gash in his back was thoroughly patched up. He looked worlds better, except for that slight fever brought on by the concussion. He still seemed so uneasy.   
“What?” Hawkeye jumped up. Radar was coming to.   
Again: “Iwantmyma...she here?” Each drowsy word blended into the next. Radar’s eyes were still tightly closed. “Will you get her, please?”   
Calmly, submerged in deep sleep, Radar shifted and mumbled something else. Then, slowly, he began to fidget, finally feeling everything rush back in at once.   
His nerves leapt into action. Pain tumbled like an avalanche into Radar’s head, shooting down his arm and seizing up the muscles in his body. His face felt hot and tight, and he was aware all at once that he couldn’t move his arm.   
“Wha...I...AHHHH!” Hawkeye jumped up as Radar sat straight up, letting out a bloodcurdling scream.   
“Whoa! Hey!” Hawkeye was at his side in a second, fighting to push him gently back on his pillow.   
“I wanna see my ma! Where-where is she?! I wanna see her! I wanna see my ma!” Radar begged. He was sweating profusely, beyond delirious with fever.   
“She’s not here right now, Radar. She’s not here right now. Why don’t you just go back to sleep, okay? Lie down. Lie down, Radar!”  
Radar struggled against Hawkeye’s grasp, stubbornly keeping himself upright. “N-No! She has to be here!” He was dreaming, half out of his mind with pain. “She was supposed to b-b-b-be here-e-e!” Radar fell back on his pillow, finally giving way to loud, heavy sobs.   
“Radar, wake up and look at me.” Hawkeye grabbed his shoulders. “Look at me.”   
“No! Where is she?!”  
“Radar!”  
That same look of confusion then clarity that Hawkeye had seen in the woods swept over his clammy face.   
“Oh.” Radar squeaked, looking around, recognition coming into his eyes. “Right. I’m...I’m here.”  
“I’m sorry, kid. I’m sorry.” Hawkeye wanted desperately for Radar’s dream to have been real. Poor thing should have been home with his family. They all should have been home with their families.   
“Nononono, where is she?” Radar whimpered, turning his head rapidly from side to side and pulling away.  
“Breathe.”  
Radar nodded, face crumpling as tears trickled down his round cheeks. “Hawkeye…”  
“It’s okay, it’s okay. I’ve got you.” Hawkeye moved to the edge of the bed, finally giving way to letting himself be sappy for a moment.  
He took Radar and drew him into him, holding him to his chest and rocking back and forth. “You’re safe. You’re okay, you’re okay...shhhhhhh...I’ve got you. I’m right here. Shhh-shhh...” Hawkeye held Radar, rubbing his back slowly and soothingly. “I’m here. I’m right here.”  
Radar let himself be rocked back and forth gently, feeling a calming relief washing over him at the feeling of having someone hold him.  
Despite the tears rolling down his face, it felt so, so good having someone care about him. For the first time since he’d arrived in Korea, Radar felt safe and warm and loved. He snuggled a little closer into his position, feeling like he could fall asleep here.   
He’d forgotten what it felt like not to have his guard up all the time.   
Safe.   
Radar was so tired of being beaten senseless by his own mind.   
“It’s okay...everything’s okay. You did really well out there, kid. I wish all my patients were all calm as you were. You did well. To put it in Ottumwa terms, ‘you done good.’” Hawkeye whispered, teasing him gently with a ‘country’ drawl, palm moving in gentle circles on Radar’s back. “You’re safe. Sure, you ever scare me like that again, your scrawny little butt is getting some kicking, but you’re safe.”  
The constant pounding of what Radar believed to be the truth, that he was unloved, a simple annoyance, faded away to the back of his mind.   
Hawkeye felt a small weight fall against his chest. He leaned back, and Radar’s body fell limply with him. Smiling slightly, he realized that Radar was fast asleep. Hawkeye grinned and gingerly lay Radar backwards back into his bed, head resting on the pillow. Radar sighed happily in his sleep as Hawk tucked the covers snuggly around his chin. His teddy bear was cuddled up against Radar’s bruised, broken body, but the look on his face told Hawkeye none of those injuries mattered right now. He was safe and that was all either of them needed.


	7. There's a Place for You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY, Radar gets some serious ego-boosting. Potter and Hawkeye both seem to think quite a bit of him--maybe it will be enough to let our little hero believe it. 
> 
> Last chapter!!

Radar did a full three-sixty turn in front of the mirror, trying to ignore his arm, still stuck in a gigantic cast.   
His nose looked better, if not bruised and a bit larger than normal, and he’d gotten new glasses to replace the shattered ones.   
A week ago, he couldn’t have looked without finding hundreds of flaws in just one feature. Now, having been back on his feet for two days now, he decided to cut his reflection a little slack. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.   
Hey, he DID save Potter’s horse (or try to at the very least).   
Suddenly, Hawkeye’s reflection appeared in the mirror, causing Radar to jump at least ten feet in the air. Whirling around, the doctor stood and laughed at Radar’s reaction.   
“Hey, Jumpy, there’s someone outside who’d like to see you up and about.”   
“Who?” Radar asked, smoothing down his clothes and adjusting his hat nervously.   
“Follow me.” Hawkeye motioned for Radar to follow, leaving the tent without looking back. Radar let Hawkeye lead him through the Swamp (Hawkeye stopped every few minutes pretending to see something or be out of breath just so he could make sure Radar wasn’t overdoing it with his concussion), chatting the whole way about...well, God knows what. He was rambling like he did, simply enjoying the presence of young corporal beside him.   
Finally, Hawkeye quieted, putting his hand on Radar’s back.   
“W-What are we doing here?” Radar asked, not without a surge of nerves. This was the site of the whole accident.   
Sophie snorted contently from inside her fence, flicking her mane and turning her head towards Radar.   
“I told you. Someone-well, maybe TWO someones wanted to see you now that you’re up.” Hawkeye slapped him on the back and stepped away as Colonel Potter appeared at his mare’s side.   
“There you are, Corporal.” Potter gave Radar a small half-smile. “It’s good to see you on your feet.”   
“Sir!” Radar’s eyes went wide, puffing out his chest and giving Potter a salute.   
Potter laughed heartily. “At ease, son.”   
“You...You wanted to see me, sir?” Radar stepped forward, trying to stop his hands from shaking. He was finally going to get reprimanded for hurting Sophie, he just knew it. He deserved it, anyway.   
“A little birdie told me you didn’t want to leave my horse when she flipped out over the sniper so I wouldn’t lose her.”   
“Oh-h...yessir.”   
“You do understand I’d rather have YOU with us, right? I love Sophie, but she’s not great with the paperwork.”   
“Um…”   
“So let me get it out of the way: that was a bit stupid, son. Next time, think of yourself. Having said that, it was very brave. Very selfless. Thank you, Corporal.”   
“W-What? Oh, oh, sir, thank you!”   
“You looked scared to death! What, did you think I was going to feed you to Sophie?”   
“Uh…” Radar looked at the ground, shuffling his feet a little. “I thought you were gonna be mad at me, for causing all that trouble and...bad stuff.”   
Potter looked at Radar incredulously before slapping his knee. “Horse hockey! You didn’t cause trouble, you got hurt!”   
“Well, I—”   
“O’Reilly, do you understand that you’re just as valuable to this unit as anyone else here? Most days,” he lowered his voice, “even more so. You run this place. You know that, don’t you?”   
“Sir, I’m just a corpor-”   
“I repeat, horse hockey! Now, the next time I see you, I want to see some confidence in your walk and a smile on your face. I want to see you act like a big-shot for a change. That’s an order.”   
“Y-Yessir.” Radar blushed furiously, lowering his eyes.   
“Excuse me?”   
“I mean...YES SIR!” Radar looked into Potter’s eyes, throwing back his shoulders and standing as straight as he could.   
“That’s good. Except you’re liable to pass out if you get that stressed every time. Get out of here and go practice your ‘yes sirs.’ Can you do that, Corporal?”   
“YES SIR!”   
“Confidence doesn’t always entail yelling, O’Reilly.”   
“...Yes sir.”   
“Oh, and, Radar?”   
Radar spun back around. “Yeah?”   
“I’m glad you’re back. You had me mighty worried. I don’t know what I’d do without you around here. You’re a good kid.”   
A genuine smile rose from Radar’s heart to his face, lighting up his eyes. “Thank you, sir.”   
“Now, scram.”   
Radar grinned, giving one final, relaxed salute before turning on his boot heel and walking away, holding his head up high, fighting back the grimace on his lips as he moved.  
Gee, but he was ready for the cuts all over his body to heal up. The gash in his back ached constantly, and every movement brought out a stab of pain from some scrape or other. How was he supposed to forget it all when his body wouldn’t stop reminding him?   
His mind had been a constant game of ping-pong between holding on to that feeling of Hawkeye holding him when he woke up, safe and warm, and lying face-down on the ground, covered in blood, feeling more alone than he ever had. He’d had tears blending with the blood dripping down his face, shivering like a leaf, practically drowning in self-hatred and loneliness.   
Then, right when he was about to sink under, give in to the hurt, someone appeared.   
Maybe it would always be that way.   
Maybe someone would always find him eventually.   
“So, Half-Pint,” Hawkeye appeared again behind him, this time, not scaring him so much. “How ya feeling? And by that, I mean was that stuff you said in the woods the concussion talking, or do you really see yourself that way? I’m serious. For once. Seriously serious.”   
“Oh...I don’t know, sir. I’m feeling okay. You don’t gotta worry.” Radar shifted uncomfortably.   
“I didn’t ask if I should worry.”   
“Sir, can I ask you something?   
“Radar, stay on the subject and answer the damn question.”   
“This is on the subject, sir, I think.”   
Hawkeye stopped walking. “Okay, fine. What’s up?”   
Radar bit his lip, the confidence beginning to waver in his mind. “Do you...er...do I...am I, uh, am I your friend? Or’ya just being nice to a little kid?”   
“Of course we’re friends.” Hawkeye furrowed his brow. How could he not think they were friends?   
“You don’t just...you don’t just feel sorry for me?”   
“Sorry?” Hawkeye raised his eyebrows. “Radar...don’t get me wrong. If the world was according to me, I’d have you home right now where you belong. But that doesn’t mean I think you’re a child. I respect you.”   
“Respect?”   
“Sure. And Potter told me what he was planning to say to you; how many more people do you need to hear it from before you believe it?”   
Radar was silent for a moment. Finally, he looked up, looking his friend directly in the eyes. “None. None. Thank you, sir.”  
Hawkeye nodded, beginning to walk again, not quite knowing what to say. “Now, on to a bigger matter,” his tone changed to teasing,” you were pretty out-of-it when I told you, but do you remember when I told you what would happen if you ever did something like this again?”   
Radar screwed his eyes shut, thinking intently for a moment. “Something about...you said you’d kick my...scrawny, er, rear-of-my-butt.”   
Hawkeye burst out laughing at that last phrasing. “Something along those lines.”   
So the two made their way to the mess tent, and all was right in Radar’s world. His body was slightly broken and certainly battered, but he had never felt more included. His ma had once told him, way back in elementary school when he’d come home crying, that there was a place for everybody on the earth. Even him. Especially, as she’d corrected, him. Perhaps, Radar wondered briefly, that was true.


End file.
